


a wet evening

by Kerosenecoffee



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Brinkley Court, Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Tension, it’s cute tho i promise, unfortunate bike rides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerosenecoffee/pseuds/Kerosenecoffee
Summary: As one could imagine after hearing this, the bicycle ride from Brinkley was hellish. Soggy mud squelched beneath the wheels slowing him down and he huffed out short breaths of exhaustion.I basically just rewrote this scene bc it’s my fav in the series uwu
Relationships: Reginald Jeeves/Bertram "Bertie" Wooster
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	a wet evening

**Author's Note:**

> is my mental health and sanity suffering greatly through this time? yes. does this scene in j&w make me feel so warm and fuzzy i forget? yes. 
> 
> have i been reading plaid_knockabouts AMAZING fanfic where jeeves has a split lip and i yearned desperately for a role reversal so i said “fuck it write ur own fanfic and hurt bertie”? yes

A bike ride from Brinkley Court out into the land may be enticing, at first glance. Rolling down lush fields and breathing in rich air, admiring the sights and whatnot.

But not on this day. There was no rich air or atmosphere along the journey, just thunder cracks and harsh rain. It wasn’t even day, late evening to be exact, when the blackened sky stretched out across the country. Doesn’t sound as enjoyable, what? Well, Bertie Wooster was cycling through mud that caked onto his wheels in a downpour that made him feel like a fish.

He was in this predicament because of Jeeves, of course. You see, it’s a long story, really, of people falling in and out of love, but ends with Mr Wooster having to ring a fire bell. This resulted in everyone staying at Brinkley Court getting locked out on a cold, black night. Well, this had obviously raised tensions and (after it was discovered the only key was nine miles away) Bertie was sent out on a rusty, old bike, in order to save the day.

Here’s the twist, however; after an extensive journey he arrived at Kingun, but according to Steppings a key was already among the party, and it belonged to Jeeves. This revelation shook Wooster, as now this rotten expedition was completely pointless.

As one could imagine after hearing this, the bicycle ride back from the manor was hellish. Wet mud squelched beneath the wheels slowing him down and he huffed out short breaths of exhaustion.

A part of him couldn’t wait to arrive back to Brinkley and rub it into the Jeeves’s face that he had been wrong about his initial plan and was now made to be a total fool. Having the key all along, the nerve. The other half was wet, cold and exhausted, more disappointed in his valet’s decision then anything. Fancy Jeeves’ nerve sending him out in the rain in his nightwear. As he peddled, he was already planning out the stern conversation he was going to have with his valet, putting him back into his place.

Nine chilly, exhausting and unpleasant miles later, a beam of God’s golden rays shone down on young Bertram as he saw the unmistakable glow of Brinkley Court. The joy he felt was indescribable, filled with the knowledge that he could finally slump into a chair and not be assaulted by rain droplets.

He got so excited, in fact, that the pair of legs working the bicycle peddles had decided to stop moving, and the whole thing came to a halt. With a startled, unmanly yelp, Bertie flew through the air a good distance, before he met with the wet gravel. _Oh yes_ , he thought, _Jeeves was going to receive a thorough talking to._

The Wooster bloodline is known for its resilience, don’t you know, but in this instance Bertie could not find any power to sit back on that horrid seat. Walking back, even a few meters was unpleasant. He lumbered through the gravel in his sodden slippers trying to ignore how much his brow smarted, imagining the warmth of his bed.

Upon arriving to the door step, Bertie expected to see the saddened and apologetic faces of all his companions, smothering him in concerned questionings and embraces. Most of all, he expected to see Jeeves, towering over the rest, bowing his head in shame. _Sir, I can only give my sincerest apologies. I have had the key all along... I burn with shame._

He expected it to play out somewhat like that. 

But to his confusion and dismay, no one was waiting for his arrival. In fact what’s worse; he could swear he heard joyous music coming from inside. His legs were just about to give way, but Bertie managed to peep into a near by window, taking in the sorrowing sight. All his friends, his aunt, his cousin and most of all Jeeves! They were drinking and dancing about the place with big grins plastered all over their faces.

Well, with the knowledge that a whole song and dance had occurred in his absence, he solemnly went to ring the great bell and waited for someone to loose him in, like a poor cat left out in the rain.

Eventually, someone did come to the door. That someone was coincidentally Jeeves, who was wearing a welcoming face despite his grave mistake.

Bertram readied himself for the strong telling off he was about to give his valet.

“Jeeves I-“

Sadly, that was the moment the Wooster’s body had decided it was done and he found himself crumpling into the Jeeves’s chest. His knees would’ve made harsh contact with the floor had his man not wrapped his arms around him to steady him.

“Are you quite alright, sir?”

Bertie remained unmoving, his face squished into Jeeves’s breast bone. It was rather comfortable, actually. He responded with a faintly human noise. His valet was emitting an enticing amount of heat, that he had gone without for a while, so he felt himself unconsciously snuggling further into Jeeves’s chest.

However, the realisation that he had now dampened the man’s clothing quite considerably and had gotten his white shirt particularly red jolted him into a standing position.

“Good heavens! Jeeves I do apologise. I’ve gone and messed up you’re suit,” Bertie exclaimed, flushing a bright shade of pink out of embarrassment.

Jeeves stood for a moment, obviously detecting the wobble in his employer’s voice, before he gave one of his famous half smiles and responded calmly: “Let’s get you upstairs, sir.”

“If you would care to disrobe, sir”

Jeeves helped Mr Wooster peel off the dressing gown clinging to his form, then busied himself collecting and arranging fresh pyjamas so that he had privacy. 

On the way up to the room, Jeeves had taken the time to explain the current situation: Angela and Tuppy were once more together and the same went for Gussie and Madeline. This made the air considerably less tense for the two, he stopped grumpily slouching as he trudged up the stairs, and the crease in his brow ceases to be so prominent. However Bertie was still slightly irritated by events, as one would be.

It was around this point that he began to genuinely feel sorry for his decision to throw his master under the bus, as it were. He happened to glance over at the exposed skin that was reddened by the cold, moistened and covered in goosebumps. The sight made his heart pang. Jeeves tried not to make a habit out of looking (or my correctly: staring) at his employer clad or in a state of undress, but sometimes the urge got the better of him.

With his fresh nightwear on, poor old Bertie stood in his room shaking like a leaf on a tree, as he waited for Jeeves to fill up a bucket with hot water, a dry dressing gown wound tightly against his shuddering frame.

His sodden and sore feet were submerged into the warm water, making the young master flinch at the initial heat only to relax into the sensation. Tension slightly eased he let out a deep, contented sigh as he listened to Jeeves start to run him a bath in a distant room.

“I say, Jeeves,” Bertie called out “I don’t think it was very cricket the way you left the young master in the rain like that. I’m soaked through to the bone, and what’s more, it was dangerous out there! Slippery mud and rock, Jeeves, I took a nasty tumble a couple yards down I could’ve been killed, man!”

The man in question continued to scuttle about as the tap was running, going from room to room collecting towels and whatnot. It was a while before Jeeves returned to Bertie’s side, with a damp rag in hand.

“I did notice the bloodied cut on your brow, sir. However, I think it very unlikely that the accident could’ve resulted in a fatality.”

Whilst he was talking, he had taken the liberty of carefully dabbing the warm cloth over his brow to clean up the blood, that had been somewhat diluted by the rain. If Jeeves had not accidentally nicked the cut itself a few times, Bertie would’ve described the feeling as pleasant.

“You’re doing a good job of dodging what I said, Jeeves. Do you think it was fair that I had to peddle eighteen bally miles for ,what I would come to learn, nothing?” To give the Wooster credit; his voice did have a hint of sternness about it.

The cloth stilled suddenly and Jeeves was looking towards the floor; like a shameful dog. Those deep blue eyes of his then met with Bertie’s own deep blues, causing not an insignificant amount of butterflies to invite themselves into his stomach.

“I apologise, sir. It seemed like the best course of action to take. I now see that my scheme has caused you harm, and I realise the error in my ways. Can i ask for your forgiveness?”

Well. Well, that certainly took the Wooster breath away and make his heart do a funny, fluttery thingy. He was too aware that his valet’s hand was particularly close to his knee, and he secretly longed for that reassuring touch. He had began to grow bashful at their proximity, a lesser man would’ve began to squirm.

He tried to regain his composure by making a pleased squawking sort of noise and remarking: “Oh, well we can put this in the past, what? Thanks to you, Jeeves, all is well at Brinkley,” He grinned.

He continued: “I must say, I am utterly worn out from th-“ the last bit of his sentence was cut off by a hiss of pain, brought on by the fact that Jeeves had swiped across the cut quickly, as a finishing move.

“I would think so, sir. The journey sounds particularly exhausting.” Jeeves stood, wrapped a white blanket around Mr Wooster’s shoulders and picked up a cigarette box and held it before him, “You’re bath will be done shortly.”

He moved to light the cigarette Bertie had crammed between his lips, giving the young master a strong whiff of the cologne on his wrist.

Jeeves tootled off to pick up the strewn pyjamas and to dispose of the crimson cloth.

“I must say you’re methods are beginning to verge towards the rough side.” Bertie muttered “I dread to think what’s in store me the Wooster bod the next time I fall into the soup.”

He watched his man stride about, taking note of the look of pride he wore on his face.

“Well, sir, one can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs.”

The statement has made Wooster all too aware of a deep hunger he had not noticed before. A long bike ride can really give one an appetite, what?

“I say... an omelette. Do you think you could get me one?” he asked, dumb hope in his puppy eyes.

“Certainly,sir.”

“Perhaps with a little half-bottle of something?”

Jeeves smiled with the corner of his lip in his patented way. “Undoubtedly, sir.”

Bertram grinned happily, for he knew he could look forward to a hot soak in the tub to sooth his aching muscles, and when he got out his stunning valet would’ve fetched him exactly what he asked for. Jeeves was a marvel, despite the wobble in his plan.

“Right-o, Jeeves.”

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY IF THERE R A LOT OF ERRORS  
> i don’t read shit properly so there’s probably spelling and grammar mistakes


End file.
